behind the mask

BEHIND THE MASK /episode 5- bad in bed? (NSFW)

Morning light spilled across the bed, casting a warm glow on the tangled sheets.

Yuri sat up, hair tousled, robe slipping slightly from her shoulder, expression perfectly cold as always. Zayne fumbled with the blanket, clearly still awkward from last night.

“You’re… clumsy,” she said flatly, voice smooth but sharp, like ice. “I didn’t know kings could be so… uncoordinated.”

Zayne froze for a moment, then shot her a mock glare. “Excuse me? I was… I was doing my best!”

Yuri smirked faintly, crossing her arms. “Your best is… barely adequate. Honestly, I expected more from the man who’s supposed to be my husband.”

“Barely adequate?” he repeated, walking closer, tone teasing. “Are you calling me bad in bed?”

Her lips twitched into the tiniest dangerous smile. “I’m calling you… predictable. And awkward. And possibly… in need of more… practice.”

Zayne’s eyes darkened with playful fire. “Predictable? Awkward? My queen, you wound me.”

“And yet,” Yuri said, leaning closer, letting her finger trace his chest lightly, “you’re still… mine.”

He grinned, grabbing her wrist gently. “Oh, I’m yours all right… and I’ll make sure you never forget it. Awkward or not.”

Yuri pulled back just slightly, voice cold again, teasing, but with the faintest c***k in her mask. “We’ll see, Zayne. Don’t get too confident. I might just… punish you for last night.”

He leaned in, breath hot against her ear. “Oh? And how exactly would you punish me?”

Her eyes flicked up at him, glimmering with dangerous amusement. “We’ll find out… later.”

The tension in the room was electric — playful, intimate, teasing — and neither of them could stop grinning behind their masks.

Even heartless Yuri couldn’t fully resist.

EVENING

Later that evening, Zayne found Yuri in the garden, standing by the fountain. Moonlight shimmered across her hair, soft and silver, and her posture was perfect, regal as ever.

He approached slowly, trying not to seem desperate — but his chest ached from last night, from the Queen Mother’s hints, from every c***k he’d seen in her cold facade.

“You’ve been avoiding me all day,” he said softly, leaning against the fountain’s edge.

Yuri didn’t turn. “I’ve been… occupied,” she replied, voice smooth, distant.

“Occupied?” he pressed, teasingly, tone darkening just slightly. “Or… thinking about your husband?”

Her head flicked toward him, eyes sharp. “My husband can handle himself just fine.”

Zayne smirked, taking a step closer. “Can he? Or is he… clumsy, awkward, and in desperate need of practice?”

Yuri’s lips twitched — the tiniest flicker of a smile. “I already know where your weaknesses are, Your Majesty. I don’t need to see more of them to be… unimpressed.”

“Unimpressed?” His eyes darkened playfully. “Careful, my queen. That ice of yours might c***k… and I might just melt it.”

She finally turned, eyes glinting with dangerous amusement. “You think you can melt me so easily?”

“Try me,” he whispered, closing the space between them. His fingers brushed her arm, then the curve of her waist — careful, teasing, worshipful.

Yuri shivered ever so slightly at his touch, though she masked it perfectly. “You’re… bold,” she said softly, voice still measured, heartless on the surface but betraying a c***k beneath.

“Bold?” Zayne echoed, leaning closer, lips near her ear. “I’ve been patient. I’ve been waiting. And now… I think it’s time for you to admit that you need me just as much as I need you.”

Yuri tilted her head, letting the moonlight catch her eyes. “Don’t presume too much. I’ve survived colder nights than this.”

“Not with me,” he countered, smirking. “Not with me in your bed. Not with me touching you, teasing you, earning you.”

Her lips parted slightly, the faintest breath escaping, betraying her cold mask. “You may be bold… but boldness doesn’t always win,” she murmured.

He grinned, pressing a hand to her hip, leaning so close she could feel his heat. “Oh, it does. At least, with you.”

For a heartbeat, Yuri’s eyes softened — almost imperceptibly. Then her smirk returned, teasing, dangerous. “We’ll see.”

The air between them hummed with desire, teasing, and unspoken promises — a slowburn storm, waiting to erupt

LATE THAT NIGHT

Moonlight poured into the room, painting the bed in silver. Zayne’s chest rose and fell with anticipation, his eyes dark with need as he watched Yuri — poised, cold, untouchable… and yet, trembling just slightly beneath her perfect mask.

She pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer against her palm. The mask cracked further, ice shattering in tiny fractures.

Before he could speak, she kissed him — hard, demanding, desperate. Her lips moved against his with a hunger that surprised even him.

Zayne groaned, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer. But this time… it was her turn to mark him.

Her lips trailed down his neck, leaving heated, passionate marks. One, two, three — soft bruises that spoke of possession, dominance, and finally letting herself feel the desire she had buried for so long.

“Yuri…” Zayne breathed, voice rough, strained.

She shushed him with a kiss, pressing against him, letting the warmth and tension between them take over. She traced her hands along his shoulders, chest, arms — teasing, exploring, claiming him as hers.

Every brush, every kiss, every shiver of heat was mutual, electric, intimate. The room was full of whispered names, ragged breaths, and the sound of two people finally letting themselves lose control together.

Zayne’s hands roamed her back, worshipful and reverent, as she pressed herself closer, taking the lead, finally letting herself dominate — teasing, claiming, marking him as she had only let him touch her before.

The night stretched, long and intimate, a storm of passion and trust, full of heat, shivers, and shared desire — and when the dawn crept in, they were tangled together, completely spent, hearts racing, skin marked, and breathless.

Yuri’s cold mask had melted — at least for the night. And Zayne? He held her as though he’d never let her go.

TO BE CONTINUED